The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Two Shades of Vague


Susanna is shocked, as are others, when I inform them that I’ll be having dinner that night with Shimper. Honestly, who wouldn’t be? First of all, why me? No, seriously. And secondly, I’ve never really dated. But now that I am having dinner with him – I am insulted by anyone implying that it is out of the ordinary for me to have dinner with the world’s richest/youngest/best-lookingest bachelor.

My inner goddess hears people asking questions doubting this dinner, and wonders in her best Samuel L. Jackson voice, ‘do I have to slap a bitch?’

I arrive at the hotel where Shimper is staying in my beat up old car. Sure, it’s a junky car, but it gets the job done. I guess you could say this car is representative of me somewhat, it’s not flashy, but it’s reliable and nice. Homey. Americana. You know, that kind of thing. I bet Shimper drives the flashiest, nicest car out there, to illustrate that he is rich, and therefore attractive. Where was I? Oh, right, just arriving for dinner.

I hand the valet guy my keys and I immediately assume he’ll steal my car. Just kidding! It’s a POS, but I love it. Have I mentioned that?

I go inside and Shimper is at the bar. He’s wearing a plain white, linen shirt, which is an inconsequential detail that I love about him. My inner drill instructor says, “ooh, girl!” at my casual use of the word love being used on something to do with Shimper. I’m shocked, too. Love? Could it be? My train of thought is interrupted when I notice Shimper approaching. I decide to put it aside to think more about later. In fact, I put it aside five times, so that I can over think it.

“Miss Gasm,” Shimper coos.
“Mr. Vague,” I say shyly.
“You look beautiful.”

I blush.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” Shimper says.

Fourteen minutes later I finish telling him what I was just thinking. Get it? Cause I have a lot of thoughts going on at once. I’m deep like a river. No, wait, an ocean.

Shimper leads me to a private room where we’ll have dinner. I am ecstatic over the idea of spending time with him, and I realize I’m too excited to even eat one bite. Maybe I can muster up the appetite for some mildly witty banter, I’m always hungry for that.

“It looks delicious,” I say, glancing back and forth between Shimper and the food laid out for us.
“I agree,” Shimper says, staring only at me.
“You didn’t look at the food …,” I whisper. “Oh, I get it.” I blush. Shimper’s eyes widen.
“Sit. Eat.” Shimper commands.
“You are quite bossy, sir,” I say in a confusing mix of complaining about something while acquiescing to it.
“I like it when you call me sir …” Shimper says. His jaw tense. His voice husky. His eyes widen. Yeah, that’s right, the trifecta.
“Oysters, hmm? What’s the big idea …?”
“Well, I want to bone. I didn’t bring you here just for dinner, ya know. Here are some papers about boning. What do you think?”

Operation Give a Dude a Bone

Article I

I’m creepy, don’t worry about it. Look how rich I am.

Article II

I will command aspects of your personal life. And we’ll bone a bunch. All of this you will find incredibly attractive. Oh and if I want to cause you pain, you’ll be into that too.

Article III

Did I mention … boning?

Article IV

Shhhh. Nobody needs to know about this.

The boner: Shimper Vague

The bonee: Olivia Gasm

I read through and am shocked! When I glance up I find that Shimper has been staring at me the whole time. Even though this should be unnerving, I blush and feel it in my koala refuge. You know, down under …

“Mr. Vague …” I say vaguely.
“Miss Gasm …” Shimper says orgasmically.

Then we do it. And it’s totally rad.

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